Havoc at Hogwarts
by snortingbullfrogs
Summary: What do you get when everyone in Hogwarts is having a completely horrible day? You get complete and utter randomness mixed in with some good wholesome humour. Some implied slash parings. Ratings for possible naughtiness in future chapters. Please R&R.


**Chapter 1: Harry Potter's Very Bad Day**

**Disclaimer:** We own nothing. _I LOVE YOU HARRY! _ Saber, down girl. _But I love Harry._ Well boo frickitty who Mr. Powers!  _Oh great, now we have to say we don't own Austin Powers too. Now look what you've done you idiot._ I'm sorry master.

**Authors Note:** _Hello. This is me and my other friend Cherlyn, or as I like to call her: Lord Cherlyndria of the Cheese Fountain…._Umm Saber, how bout NO!

_Ladies and gentleman, this is a story about CHEESE! CHEESE, WONDERFUL CHEESE!...cough…I'm sorry for that outburst. So what exactly is this story about CC. _

Oh by the way, CC is my (Cherlyn's) nickname because my name is usually too damn long to spell (CC are my initials people, Gosh). Well my lovely writing partner, I am going to assume that since this story is being posted in the Harry Potter section of this site, that it is a HARRY POTTER FANFICTION! slaps Saber upside the head Think for once.

_Rubs head Ouchie… Well, I guess its time we get to our beloved H to the Otter. Wait, that's hotter…Well he is hot…well the guy that plays him…cough_

Once upon a time (_Oh that is so cliché CC_) (Shut up and let me get back to the story) (_Sorry_) Harry woke up to the bird's singing and feeling very refreshed from night before, and that is where his day took a turn for the worst. He stepped out of bed and only found his foot in a puddle of urine. "Ron! Did you piddle on the floor again?" Harry cried out in disgust, "How many times do I have to tell you, Spiders are not afraid of your fire hose…although Hermione most definitely is!" As he walks to wash his disinfected foot from his friend's nightly territorial markings, his already saturated foot slid on the tiled floor, causing him fall and cry out in pain has is head went SMACK! against the ceramic. "Bloody hell Ron!" Harry cried out.

Harry picked himself up and proceeded towards the showers, only to find his faithful friend Dean staring at him as he removed his nightly attire. "Dean…what the hell are you doing?" Harry questioned.

"…Comparing…" Dean said with a malicious smile on his face.

"Comparing what exactly?" Harry said, as his hands slowly went to cover his Coughcoughcough…you get the point. (Saber, when did this become a porn?) (_Oh it hasn't, but I'll let you know when it has so I can close the curtain and have some fun…_)

"You and Seamus. Hmm, I'd like to give you a go," Dean replied inching closer to Harry, attempting to put an arm around his shoulder.

"Maybe…another time…" Harry replied quickly before slipping in the shower, making sure to put an impenetrable charm on the shower curtain for protection.

Harry carefully retreated out of the shower, being cautious of Dean's busy hands. He made his way down to the Great Hall only to find that the House Elves had gone on strike, and the only breakfast on the table was Dumbledore's famous porridge. The porridge is famous not for its taste, but for the consumer's tendency to go into a bout of projectile vomiting. This knowledge caused Harry to purposely miss his breakfast that fateful morning.

Harry slumped down at the table, and stared evilly at Ron, whose urine caused him a most uncomfortable situation with Dean. Ron, whose mouth was full of the grotesque mush which some people called food, asked Harry, "Wha?" His eating habits were similar to a camel and although a camel would have the intelligence not to eat Dumbledore's cooking. Just then, a spunky little muggle born Gryffindor named Patrick (nick named glass eye…don't ask…), sat down next to Harry. He out of nowhere started to ramble on, it went something like this:

"I was in the truck with my dad, on a trip cause he's a truck driver, and we were in the back playing cards when I decided to put on music. And I put on Sum 41."

"How do you play on the Sum of 41?" Ron asked, his mouth still full of rotten food.

"Oh, it's a muggle band," said Hermione in a know-it-all voice.

Patrick continued: "Anyways. And then you know how the first song is some guy singing really low and it sounds kind of like mutter and then my dad got scared and he thought someone was in the truck with us." (Well that was quite pointless wasn't it?) (_Indeed it was, but we love Patrick anyways_) (He's so loveable)

Paatrick ambled away, while talking to anyone that would listen, and then laughed like a chicken cross bred with a goat on crack. "Did anyone else find him a little too enthusiastic?" Hermione asked.

"Indeed," Harry said. Harry checks his watch, "I wonder when the MAIL is supposed to come in? Hint hint, AUTHORS!" (_CC, queue the owls_) (Roger).

Right on queue, the same time as every morning (whenever that may be) the owls flew in. Hedwig, Harry's dedicated owl, dropped a letter into Harry's untouched porridge. As the letter collided with the porridge, it splattered into Harry's eyes. "No, my eyes! My beautiful eyes! My prize winning beautiful eyes! How will I seduce Ron's little sister without my eyes!" Harry screamed to the Hogwarts enchanted ceiling. Ron spits out his half chewed porridge onto Hermione in shock.

"Ack! My hair!" sulked Hermione.

Following the burning of Harry's eyes, came the letter of doom. (_CC was that really necessary_). (Yes it was Saber) "I wonder this letter says," Harry pondered to himself. (_CC, why did Harry state the obvious_) (Its not stating the obvious, stating the obvious would be like saying "Harry wears glasses". I only made him say something that stupid because we were in a stupid spot and couldn't get past it, Geeze!)

Harry opened the letter, and read to himself. The letter was like so:

**Dear Harry,**

**I'm sorry that this letter took so long, but I was wondering if you wanted to go on a fishing trip when your summer vacation starts. I gotta go, Buckbeak wants food. Keep out of trouble.**

**- Sirius**

Harry blinked at his belated letter. "WHY!" he cried loudly to the ceiling. And with that he left the great hall, but as he was leaving some idiot sounding familiarly like Ron's yelling, "OWW! PIG! What the hell is your problem?"

After spending a few minutes calming down in the girl's lavatory, Harry apathetically entered his first period potions class to an extremely disgruntled Professor Snape. And since Harry doesn't give a crap about a teacher that LOATHES HIM WITH HIS ENTIRETY (go away Snape), he didn't bother to ask why. Harry retreats to his desk, and after the class comes in and settles, Snape made an announcement to his class.

"Since Dumbledore apparently hates me, and his goal in life is to make my life of living hell, he is making all first period classes run all day, you annoying students will be spending the day in potions," Snape said irritably, twitching with every other word. The class started slowly, like usual, and basically the class summed up is somewhat like this (its all the interesting things we promise) (_actually, I've been thinking, and I'm almost positive that Dumbledore is a few tacos short of a burrito) _(well said):

Harry Potter, the golden child himself, was rubbing his head in agony in his potions class. The desk was injured from Harry's disgustingly scarred forehead because his best friend Ron had said something obviously stupid out loud to the whole class, causing Harry's IQ to drop 10 points.

"My brain is hurting…" Harry mumbles.

"But honestly if lettuce grows in a patch, why don't basketballs?" Ron tries to figure out.

"Ron don't speak anymore…"

"Ron, do you even know what a Basketball is?" Hermione questioned her intelligent deprived friend.

"Of course I do! It's that new French Danish!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued to ignore him and do her work. Harry banged his poor dented desk a few more times to cause this horrible memory to surpass him. Even Professor Snape, whose hatred for Harry is colder than Dumbledore's feet without his Willy Wonka woolly lickerish socks (Oh great, now we have to say we don't own Willy Wonka) (_Shut up CC and get back to the story_), felt sorry for that Potter guy aka Swollen-Head Potter aka Despised One aka Mr. Celebrity aka The Boy Who Lived aka The Boy Who Will Soon Be Killed By Snape For His Deep Hatred For His Father aka Harry Potter because he had to tolerate Weasley's inane ramblings. Take deep breath

Five hours later classes finally ended. And miraculously Neville only blew up five students, and only had two broken bones. Harry trudged back to Gryffindor tower, and went directly to bed. Where he was possessed by Voldemort in his dream which caused him to be unable to sleep anymore that night, and he then had to suffer from Ron's night terrors about spiders.

Well tune in next week for our instalment on bad Ron's day.

_You know, I'm not entirely sure that its plausible that every resident in Hogwart to have a bad day on the EXACT SAME DAY!_

Well you not what Saber, I don't care! Its called FANFICTION. FICTION! It doesn't have be real, your readers just have to be stupid enough to believe what you put down…

looks readers

I mean…we love you guys, please read and review.

_Oh they've already read if they've come this far._

Quiet you…

_REVIEW!_


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